


The Thief and The Liar

by AlIons_y



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlIons_y/pseuds/AlIons_y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fel'Ras Adaar, a young rogue forced to leave her home when the Ben-Hassrath take everything she loves from her.<br/>Years later, after being made to join the inquisition due to the mark on her hand, she'll have another run in with the Ben-Hassrath, and it doesn't exactly go smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thief and The Liar

**Author's Note:**

> Adaar origin story. Hope you enjoy.

The night was calm, quiet, peaceful even. The autumn breeze carried a slight chill that was welcomed by the lithe but muscular form hauling in the day’s harvest of wheat and corn. Her lavender skin drenched in sweat while her white hair threatened to come undone from its once tight bun. Full grown horns gently folded over her head despite her adolescence. Upon entering her home both parents gave her a nod in greeting; her nose was immediately tantalized with the scent of pork sizzling over the fire. It seemed her father’s hunt was successful. This quiet life being all she knew. 

“You have done well, Fel’Ras,” her mother spoke gently, a sweet smile gracing her scarred lips. “You deserve a fine meal for such effort.”

Her father, whom was sharpening his dagger, nodded firmly; seeming to agree. He wasn’t one for talking, but his gestures were often ones of warmth. He had taught her much about the use of the dagger and slight of hand as a way of getting things from the village when they needed extra supplies. Since they were Qunari, they were often thought of as monsters, therefore leading them to living in seclusion. Fal’Ras would admit to the feeling of unrest and wanderlust, but she was happy here. 

It was then that a knock interrupted her useless string of thought. It was odd since they never had visitors. Then there was a tense silence as her mother grasped Fel’Ras’ arm firmly. A foreboding warning as her father quietly inched to the door. Her mother slowly standing, dragging her confused daughter from her chair. It was only then that Fel'Ras noticed her father’s hand was still gripping the blade he had been sharpening. His hand was only a breath away from the handle when the door was flung open. A man...no...a qunari took up the entire doorway with his bulking mass, but his movements were so smooth and effortless. She saw her father barely being able to fend off his assailant before her mother pulled her away; flying out of the secret back entrance that could only be seen if you knew it was there. Her sword now firmly in hand. Fel’Ras, confused and panicked, tried to fight her mother's strong grip, but to no avail. Fel'Ras couldn't understand why her mother never looked back, as if already resigning to the fate of the man she loved. 

It didn’t take long for Fel’Ras to realize that they were being followed. Any attempt at stealth was abandoned in the chase. She knew full well why. Their tracks would be near impossible to follow in the dense woods. The roots providing a path to those who knew its secrets and the uneven weave of the trees made it difficult to aim arrows if you weren’t practiced at it, and shooting at night was an impossible feat. Everything that had seemed so ordinary had suddenly had a purpose. Her parents had prepared for this; they had prepared her for this. There was a fork in the road and they had gained some distance, but not enough. Grabbing the dagger she kept in her boot, her mother shoved it into her daughter's trembling hands.

“Take this and run down this path, do not stop at the first town, keep running and whatever you do, do not go back to that house,” she whispered harshly, but her mother’s eyes betrayed the depth of her sorrow. 

“But what abou-” 

“No,” she countered, shaking her head quickly. “These are Ben-Hassrath.” the name sent a cruel shiver down Fel'Ras' spine. “They will wait for you, and they will kill you. The only chance you have is to run the way I taught you. Now, go!” 

There was no time for parting words. Her mother ran the other direction, the path that would leave a trail, the path that would end in blood. Fighting every urge to turn back, Fel’Ras sprinted down her own path. She ran and ran and ran until she couldn’t feel her feet and kept running. She didn't slow until the sun had risen once more, but kept moving. A relentlessly cruel fear that if she turned around, she would see them right behind her. She slinked through the third town she passed, but didn’t stop. She couldn't stop. 

Fel'Ras changed her path several times until she herself didn’t know where she was. Finally, she collapsed from exhaustion. It was by some miracle that the traveling merchant, a dwaven man and his son, whom was quite enamored with ‘enchantments’, had managed to help her into their caravan and feed her some of their rations. They had told her that they were traveling around Fereldan selling their wares. The dwarf could have possibly figured that she would make a good guard, but she knew that the best way to repay his kindness was to distance herself from him as soon as she was able. It wouldn’t be too difficult a thing, she figured, as he seemed a bit cowardly. When her strength had recovered, she told him about her being chased, and possibly still followed. She told him that it would be best for him to forget he’d ever met her and never mention her to a soul, and so he quickly swore to. 

She thanked the small man and his son for their kindness before traveling again. This time she ventured towns, but only at night. Stealing things that people might not miss quickly and slowly made her way to Emerald Graves...possibly further if need be. The only thing that kept her moving was the naive thought that her parents were alive.

It would be a few short years before she made a decent living protecting Orlesian nobles from themselves. She felt like a decorative pet, but her mother had practiced her in wit, and it was best to play the part of a stupid brute to gain information. It had been a game when she was a child, to learn of surprises and treats that would otherwise be denied if asked outright, but it didn’t take her long to understand its real applications; especially with reputation sensitive Orlesians. 

It was also around the time that the blight was beginning, though she really had no part to play in it until one noble got it in his head that he needed to check on his dear cousin with whom he had a secret black market trade with for furs and the like. Despite her constant insistence that this was a TERRIBLE idea, he simply played it off as her being ‘lazy’. 

“It’s not even a real blight. The Ferelden King will have it under control soon,” he yammered on to his company, a measly group of investors and a few other bodyguards whom seemed just as annoyed as she was. They were traveling out on the road, in plain sight, and few places to take cover. She swore if the darkspawn didn’t get them, the bandits would. And with how quiet things were getting, she had a feeling she’d rather take on the bandits. 

~~~~~~ 

The darkspawn were relentless in their assault, most of the nobles were already dead, but those who could fight had banded together now. Their only job now was surviving. It was then that she heard something loud and obnoxious from a ledge above. 

“Up here, dathrasi!” she recognized the insult instantly, but instead of turning up to look at the source like her opponent, she gladly took the distraction as an opening. Slicing the creature's head from its shoulders, she finally took a moment to see her salvation, and it came with a pair of horns. 

Fel’Ras was relieved to find it was a group of Tal Vashoth mercenaries. They had been traveling away from the bulk of the horde when they had heard the commotion. Impressed with her skills, Shokrakar asked the youth if she’d be interested in joining their little rag tag group and seeing how she was fresh out of a job, she took it earnestly. Sending the ragged remaining guard members back to Orlais.

Thus Fel’Ras spent the next ten years traveling with the group known as Valo-Kas. It was mostly the same work as before, but she felt a strange sense of belonging that she had missed since she had left her quiet home. She excelled to the point of becoming the leader, Shokrakar becoming her second in command. Fel’Ras’ life was finally getting itself in order. 

Then the conclave happened.

The sky blew-up, her hand blew-up, demons out the ass, and then she got goaded into saving the damned world. Exactly where did she go wrong? 

Although the humans around were pushy, it seemed that they treated everyone that way. Maybe the stress of the world ending might have had something to do with all the tightwads. Except she was pretty sure Cassandra had a broom stuck up her ass just to keep her back straight. Not that she hated the woman, that was just how Cass was. Fel’Ras might have also held a little grudge over having been judged as guilty for no other reason than surviving. 

She had just finished talking with broomstick and the pushy triplets about the events at Val Royeaux when she walked out of the chantry to see a man clad in heavy mercenary armor. He seemed rather impatient, like he’d been given the run around. When he caught her eye he seemed both relieved and curious. Possibly because a qunari walking out of a chantry was not a sight often heard of. Although he didn’t show the same...hesitation most humans did when in her presence. In fact he seemed determined as he made his way over to her. 

“Excuse me!” a cloud of breath formed on his lips as he called out to her politely, but the slight annoyance in his voice was hard to mistake. “I’ve got a message for the inquisition, but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.”

She smiled down at him, intrigued. “Can’t imagine why, lone mercenary wondering around our camp.”

Her humor was well received as a smirk crossed his face. “They call me Cremisius Aclassi,” the very Tevinter-y name had her attention.

“Alright then, Cremisius, I’ll hear your piece and pass it along. What brings you to our frigid, barren neck of the woods?”

He choked back a laugh, before he drew himself upright. “Our group, the Bull’s Chargers, have some information that would interest you.”

“Oh?” she had heard of the Bull’s Chargers when she was with Valo-Kas, but the two had never crossed paths. The Chargers worked mostly in Nevarra and Orlais where Valo-Kas worked mostly in Ferelden. It was said to be lead by a qunari, probably Tal Vashoth. “And how much will this information cost me?”

“Nothing,” the soldiers’ eyes delighted in her obvious confusion. “Some Tevinter spies have accumulated on the Storm Coast. Our leader, the Iron Bull, says if you’d like to see what we’re made of, meet us there and watch us work.”

“Oh I see, information and a show,” she quirked another smile. “Alright, what would the Chargers offer the inquisition?”

“We’re tough. We’re loyal. And we don’t break contracts. But you lead a company yourself right?” 

Fel’Ras’ jaw clenched tightly in disapproval. Right. Glowy hand. People knew who she was now even without meeting her in Valo-Kas. Calling her the damned Herald of Andraste, or at least that’s what these Maker obsessed humans believed. She had to stop herself from making a disgusted noise. She’d been hanging around Cassandra for too long it seemed. “Yes, I did.”

“If that’s the case, then you know talk is cheap.”

“Especially when it’s free. Alright, we could use the help. Plus I’ll finally get to meet the...infamous Iron Bull.” 

Cremisius seemed to be struggling to hold back his laughter now. If this was the sense of humor this lot had, she’d welcome their company to the stiff necks she was hanging around. The only ones who seemed to be capable of a joke was Varric and Sera. 

“This is the first time he’s gone out of his way to choose a side, but he thinks the Inquisition is doing good work.”

She felt a small sense of pride in that. Not that she did everything alone, but often felt like all the important, life threatening decisions had been tossed in her lap lately. Fel’Ras lead the soldier back to the entrance and said her parting words. 

~~~~~~ 

She quickly began to gather her party. Solas, or Egghead as she so affectionately called him, was busy...curled up in bed. Supposedly, he was looking into the Fade for more clues about the rifts, but she was pretty sure he just didn’t want to trudge through the rain. Sera was off somewhere, causing mischief of some sort, and Varric had shut himself in a cabin, likely scribbling down the details of Val Royeaux. 

Cassandra automatically assumed she was going, which meant she was even if Fel’Ras told her she wasn’t. Blackwall whom always seemed like a sad, abused dog, perked up at the mention of the Chargers and asked to join out of curiosity. Vivienne had, unfortunately, forced herself into the group. The rogue knew her type from her time in Orlais. Ruthlessly ambitious, but ultimately overreaching. She also didn’t miss the calculating look that she had come to know as someone evaluating how easily manipulated she was. She had seemed to have come to an undetermined answer...for the time being. 

When they reached the coast they easily found the fight, only hanging back to watch the Chargers work. The spies were dispatched of quickly enough for Fel’Ras to be impressed. They weren’t Valo-Kas, but they were damn good. She approached the one eyed wall that was named Iron Bull as him and Cremisius finished delivered orders. His eye lit up when it caught her, probably in relief from not having craning his head down to speak to her. 

“Hot damn! It’s true!” his deep, warm, gravelly laugh tickled her tastes just a little too well, but she ignored that. “Oh the chantry must love you.”

“About as much as they’d love a darkspawn as the next divine,” she mused. 

“Aha! And a sense of humor too! Come, over here, away from all the racket.”

They traveled small distance, but enough to gain some privacy with her party to talk business. The soldier from before making his way over to tell Bull that they had finished up their tasks. Bull then dismissed him to the casks to leave them to their talks. 

“So...you’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it.”

“As I recall you came to me. Don’t we get a ‘fighting-for-a-cause’ discount or something?”

The Iron Bull’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “I’m sure the inquisition can afford us.” 

“I’ll admit, you’ve proven yourself. It’s an impressive company.” 

“Yes, they are, but you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me,” Fel’Ras felt her body heat up, but she quickly reminded herself this was business. She would get to pleasure later.

“Almost sounds too good to be true.” 

“Ugh,” a quiet guttural noise escaped Cassandra. Fel’Ras shot the disgruntled warrior a bemused grin from over her shoulder.

“There’s something else. Might be useful. Might piss you off,” and here came the foreboding bad feeling that came with all things too good to be true. “Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?” All the warmth and laughter left the conversation immediately. “Judging from the reaction you have…”

“Qunari enforcers, spies, and executioners.” 

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that last part, but basically that’s them...or well, us,” the air between them became ice cold as Fel’Ras’ wrath became palpable, her allies were surprised by the sudden change in character, but Bull continued on without pause. “The Ben-Hassrath are concerned with the Breach. Magic like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been order to join the inquisition, get close to those in charge and send reports on what’s happening, but I also get reports from agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, and I’ll share them with your people.” 

Fel’Ras laughed without an ounce of humor behind it. Truthfully she was resisting the urge to plunge her dagger into his throat. She settled with a punch to his face. It didn’t knock him on his ass like she had hoped, but it did seem to hurt like hell as he grasped his jaw with both hands. She ignored the dull throbbing of her hand as she relished in his pained face. 

“Son of a-" 

“What a joke! I will never trust my life to a backstabbing cunt like you!”

“FEL’RAS!” Cassandras’ scolding tone almost didn’t reach her through her rage. “That is NOT your decision to make.” 

“What?” the awe and betrayal she felt knocked the wind from her sails. 

“She’s right, darling. We need the men, and you go about insulting and assaulting their commander. Tis bad form,” the annoying mage piped in as well, but she simply glared down at the woman. 

Finally, she looked to Blackwall whose steady gaze seemed almost apologetic. “They're right, Adaar…” he could tell this badly wounded her trust in him, but he stood by this conviction.

“Fine, see if I give a fuck when he puts your heads on a pike,” she snarled angrily. The conversation had awakened the anger that had laid dormant for so long. She knew this was a tantrum, but she no longer saw Iron Bull. She saw the monster who took up the small door of her quiet home. She heard the patter of footsteps chasing behind her. She saw her parents fade into oblivion. She didn’t notice the shocked stares of the company as she stormed away. 

~~~~~~ 

A month passed and Fel’Ras had refused to speak to Iron Bull, but she had also become more reclusive. The Iron Bull had wormed his way into the hearts of everyone around her. Even Varric who had a bad taste in his mouth over qunari. It was his orders to ‘get close’ after all. As if falling asleep wasn't hard enough with a Ben-Hassrath hanging around, but now her memories from the past haunted her dreams. She saw her father fighting a large, powerful opponent he couldn't possibly beat, and her mother running in the opposite direction in a path that would most definitely end in her own death. The distant sound of a slow and rhythmic knock. 

It was late in the evening when an actual knock interrupted her restless sleep, if you could call it sleep, though it was a relentless battering rather than the curt one from her dreams. She hesitated to even approach it, but convinced herself it was probably Cass coming to make sure she had eaten, which she hadn’t and she was half starved. Broomstick had become somewhat of a mother hen, probably plagued with a bit of guilt over Fel’Ras’ reaction. 

When she opened the door to see the bulking mass of qunari taking up the entire doorway. Her mind instantly flashed back to the nightmare of the final evening with her parents. With fearful force she slammed the door shut. She barely heard the unsightly thunk as she pushed her back against it; braced for an impact of some kind. Her heart hammered in her ears for what seemed like an eternity, but soft groans woke her from her fear induced trance. She steadied her shaken breathe and opened the door to find Iron Bull doubled over holding his nose pathetically.

“What is it with you and hitting me in the face!” he barked. She felt no pity, however. She only wished she had been in the right state of mind to slam it harder if possible. 

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me in the middle of the night, Bas?” the last word said with a mocking insult. 

Once he stopping complaining about his nose and straightened up she could see a small cut on the bridge and the trickle of blood dripping from his nostril. She did nothing to hide her smug satisfaction. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t see that terrified look on your face when you saw me at the door.”

“And I’m not going to pretend like I give a damn.”

He seemed to give a small huff of dissatisfaction. “Listen,” he said with a sigh. “You’ve obviously got something to work out with me, and it’s affecting your job.”

“Not knowing who to trust does that,” she snapped back. She didn’t give a damn about this inquisition anyway. The only reason she was here was because if she ran off they’d hang her for whatever they could think of. All she wanted to do was get back to Valo-Kas, where she was in charge and her people were people she could trust. She didn’t have to worry about her hand doing weird shit and she wasn’t forced to work with Ben-Hassrath. 

He twisted his face in aggravation, but sighed again. She also thought she heard him muttering numbers. Was she making him count backwards to cool his temper? That was almost humorous. 

“Alright,” he said as if coming to some conclusion. “If that’s how you’re going to be, just fight me.”

For a moment she was stunned into silence, but only a moment. “What?” 

“You heard me. You’ve got to work whatever this is out of your system, and if that means taking you on, then so be it,” he said determined, then his lip twitched dangerously. “That is, unless you’re scared I’ll win.” 

She ground her teeth and pulled down on the leather straps around his chest. “Where and when, froofroo pants?” 

“Now, and out by the pond where no one can see us. I’d hate to be interrupted.”

This asshole was making it sound sexual, but she was so angry she couldn’t form any come-backs. If there was one thing she knew, it was that she loathed this man with her entire being. This Ben-Hassrath. And if she was going to be given the chance to kick the shit out of him, she’d take it. 

The two stripped down to their casual clothes, no armor. She wore a qunari wrap top and her leather pants and boots while he wore his floofy pants and shoes. The two stood a man’s width apart and the spar begun with an unspoken signal. She watched his movements and tried to predict the best spots to hit and the best spots to feign hitting. She made a lung for his left side, he drew back to dodge and counter but the wind was knocked out of him when her left knee collided with his gut. 

“Gah, slippery one...I underestimated you.” 

She didn’t hear him; she was already calculating her next attack and she went for his left side again. Iron Bull went to block his right, but his left was punched again. 

“OUCH!” he yelped as only a burly qunari could. Finally he attacked. He swung up and she went to dodge it, but she was second too slow and found herself propelled against a tree after being kicked so hard she blacked out for a minute. Fel’Ras panted and coughed for a few moments before a daunting shadow appeared over her. 

“Give up?”

“Not a chance.”

The two fought, calculatively, fiercely, manically until the sun started to peer over the mountains. She landed far more blows, but the few that he landed were merciless in force. The two lay on their backs, both spent and bloodied, on the snowy ground. 

“Haaahaaa...You sure know how to show... a guy a good time…” Iron Bull panted 

“Shut up…you’re not suppose...to enjoy it…” she said as she weakly kicked his right side with her foot and he moaned in pain. 

“Ahhaa, but you did…right?” he said coughing. 

“Not as much as I thought I would…” her raspy voice a sad acceptance as she stared at the rising son. She thought of her mother and father, and how stupid they would think all these tantrums were. She felt a harsh sting prickle her eyes when she thought of them. “My parents were Tal-Vashoth…”

“Yeah,” he nodded staring up at the same sunrise. “I figured.”

“They weren’t bandits. They didn’t hurt anyone. All they wanted to do was live away from the Qun,” there was a serious contemplative silence that followed from Bull that she hoped wasn’t feigned. “My mother was a Ben-Hassrath agent on Seheron. She met a Tal-Vashoth and was about to kill him, when a hurricane forced them to seek shelter. My mother got hurt and the Tal-Vashoth should have left her to die, but he didn’t. He pulled her all the way to the shelter against the beating rain because he had seen so much needless death and wanted to save a life...just once. That was my father…” 

The warmth of the morning sun started to thaw their frozen bodies as she continued on with her story. “My mother was in charge of the Ben-Hassrath in Seheron for 3 years and then she fell in love with a Tal-Vashoth’s kindness. Something completely unheard of,” a brief smile caught her lips. “I can say without a doubt, I’m one of the only qunari who actually grew up with parents instead of tamasrans,” her gentle smile faded. “Then it all ended. Ben-Hassrath came and killed my father, and my mother sacrificed herself to save me,” she finally said it. The story she’d been holding back for years came bubbling forth, in front of someone she considered to be her enemy no less. To top it all off, her tears had escaped and she knew Iron Bull could see them. “They were my home, my Kadan…” she sighed as she rubbed the stray tears away and sat up. “Come on, we better get back.” 

Bull didn’t move for a long time. As if contemplating what Fel’Ras had said with earnest. He stared at her back as if he could feel how much this took for her to say. She refused to meet his gaze as she stared out onto the pond. 

“No wonder you hate my guts,” he murmured. 

She sighed. “I’m no better than you. I hated you on principle.”

“Hey, I don’t hate you.”

“I’m Tal-Vashoth. You’d be against the Qun if you didn’t hate me.”

“I decide who I hate and who I don’t hate. And I don’t hate you.”

She laughed and took her white hair out of it’s wrecked bun to shake it out, shimmering against the morning sun. She didn’t notice how slightly captivated her male companion was by this simple action. “Stop with the mushy shit, we’ve got work to do,” she said as she stood up and dusted the snow off of her aching muscles and the blood from her lip.

“You started it,” he grinned as he sat up, but was surprised when she lent her hand down to help him. 

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a picture I drew, but my tablet died so it's kinda unfinished.  
> http://i.imgur.com/kmmTgzi.jpg


End file.
